


Push the Pedal Down

by wesleysgirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleysgirl/pseuds/wesleysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Crowgirl13, who donated to the Fire_fic fund and asked for a Jossverse/SPN crossover.<br/>Enormous thanks to Yasminke for her incredible help.</p></blockquote>





	Push the Pedal Down

"Fucking vampires," Dean said from the ground, where he'd just been knocked onto his ass. "Sam!"

Sam was too busy to say, "Yeah, I'm on it," or whatever it was Dean might have wanted to hear. He gave chase down the rough, rocky path that led into the center of the small park, knowing that there was every chance he was heading straight into an ambush but unable to do a damned thing about it.

The path curved, his boots skidding on the loose stones, throwing him off balance. Still, he was close. Sam ran and leapt, catching hold of the back of the vampire's jacket and pulling him to the ground, landing on his legs. The vampire whirled, tossing him to one side like he was a hell of a lot lighter than he knew he was, and then jumped on top of him. Sam struggled, but the vampire grabbed hold of a handful of his hair, jerked his head to one side, and leaned in, teeth pricking at his skin.

And then the vampire just... disappeared, a cloud of dust raining down on him. Sam made the mistake of inhaling and it choked him, gritty and bitter-tasting. He rolled to one side, coughing, and felt a hand settle on his shoulder. "Easy," someone not-Dean said.

Sam sat up, still coughing, tears streaming down his face, and blinked them back enough to see a guy -- tousled dark hair, eye patch -- kneeling next to him. Dean came running up, skidding to a halt when he saw the stranger.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked. "Where'd the vampire go?"

"Where they always go when you shove a stake into their hearts," the guy said.

"I think it blew up," Sam said, coughing again.

"What do you mean, blew up?" Dean said. His expression shifted. "Oh man, don't even tell me that's little bits of it all over you. Gross."

"Yeah, thanks." Well aware that he was covered with the dust, Sam got up, brushing at it.

The other guy straightened up, too. He wasn't as tall as Sam, but he was almost as tall as Dean, his shoulders broad. "You know about vampires but you don't know how to kill them?" the guy asked.

"We thought only decapitation worked," Sam said.

"Okay, who _are_ you?" the guy said, looking perplexed.

Dean frowned. "Who are _you_?"

The guy sighed and offered his hand, which Dean shook, still looking suspicious. "Xander Harris, Scooby extraordinaire."

"Dean and Sam Winchester," Dean said. "We, um..." He hesitated.

"Hunt vampires?" Xander suggested.

"Not just vampires," Sam said. Dean glared at him, and he glared right back. "What? It's not like he doesn't know."

"That that was a vampire?" Xander asked. He looked amused, his lips curving upward. "Yeah. And can I just say how nice it is not to have to try to convince you it was some guy on drugs who just ran away really fast after you bumped your head and got confused?" He grinned, and Sam found himself grinning in return.

"So, you got a Mystery Machine around here somewhere?" Dean asked.

Xander looked puzzled. "A what? Oh. No. I mean, I have a car, but it's..." He glanced around, trying to orient himself. "I don't know. Somewhere around here."

There wasn't any reason to think there might be any more vampires around -- they'd probably have come out of hiding by now if there were. "Come on," Sam said. "We'll help you find it."

"Cool. Thanks." Xander started walking back up the path, and Dean and Sam fell into step behind him.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Dean asked in a whisper. "Some kind of hunter?"

"I guess," Sam answered in the same hushed tone. He tasted dust lingering at the corners of his mouth and winced. "How else would he know about vampires? I mean, I still don't get why that one didn't act the way we're used to, but -- "

"Hey," Xander said, looking at them over his shoulder. "I'm half blind, not half deaf. Maybe we should go get a drink or something. You know, share intel."

" _Share intel_?" Dean repeated in disbelief, stopping as Sam continued on.

* * *

They went to a coffee shop instead of a bar. The place was brightly lit and not particularly crowded, so they snagged a booth in the back and ordered coffee.

"Any of you boys want some pie?" the waitress asked, chewing gum in a way that'd make her seem like a throwback to the sixties if it weren't for the piercings decorating her ears, eyebrows and lips. Sam thought she'd be cute if she wasn't wearing so much eyeliner. "Hobie just baked 'em fresh this afternoon."

"Hell yeah," Dean said. "What kind you got?"

The waitress -- her name tag read 'Rhonda' -- listed them off. "Apple, cherry, blueberry, pecan and lemon meringue."

"I guess I'll start with cherry," Dean said with a winsome grin; Rhonda, who Sam would have bet wouldn't have reacted if Brad Pitt came walking in, actually blushed. "Sam, you want pie?" Dean asked.

"I'm good," Sam said, and looked at Xander.

"Yeah, why not," Xander said. "I'll try the pecan. It's good, right?"

"It is," Rhonda said. She cracked her gum again and went off, her hips swaying enticingly. Dean watched, leaning into the aisle until he was perched on the edge of the seat. Sam was tempted to shove him and watch him fall to the floor, but restrained himself when he caught Xander watching him.

Xander grinned and ducked his head, sipping at his coffee. "So -- you guys been doing this long?"

"What, drinking coffee?" Dean asked. Sam elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey!"

"Quit it," Sam told him. Then, to Xander, he said, "Yeah, for a long time. Our dad... he was a hunter. We kind of grew up with it."

Nodding, Xander reached for another sugar packet and tore it open, dumping the sugar into his mug. "I didn't start until high school."

"Was it a family thing for you, too?" Sam asked.

Xander hesitated. "Yes and no," he said finally. "I have... these friends -- they're sort of like a family. You know, like a substitute one."

"And you all hunt together?" Sam asked.

Rhonda came back with two plates of pie, setting one in front of Xander and then the other, with a lingering smile, in front of Dean. "There anything else I can get you boys?"

"I think we're good, thank you," Sam said. She went away again. "Do you and your friends live around here?" He'd never heard anything about a group of hunters in this area, and it was safe to assume Dean hadn't either or they wouldn't have bothered coming when they'd heard there'd been a series of attacks that sounded suspiciously like the work of vampires.

"All of us? No." Xander stabbed his fork into his pie and took a bite. "I don't live too far, though; a couple hundred miles north. I mean, the whole group is sort of based out of... um..." He trailed off, looking guilty.

Dean smirked. "What, is it a secret society or something? Like one of those fraternities?" His expression changed and he turned to Sam. "You weren't in one of those, were you?"

"A secret fraternity?" Sam shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I was too busy studying to mess around with stuff like that."

"It's not so much secret as... well, okay, secret's what it is." Xander grinned sheepishly. "But to answer the actual question, I move around a lot."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Us, too. But what was up with that vampire?"

"Seemed normal to me." Xander put down his fork and leaned back. "Aren't they all pretty much the same? No sunlight, turn to dust when you cut off their heads or put a stake into their hearts, not to mention they have that whole hatred of crosses things going on..." He ticked the points off on his fingers as he talked.

"What do you mean, no sunlight?" Sam asked, frowning.

"Makes them go *poof,*" Xander said. "Um, except not _that_ kind of poof. The British kind, I mean."

Dean and Sam exchanged a confused glance. "The ones we've seen can go out in the daytime," Sam said.

"When it's not overcast?" Xander asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. They didn't like it, but there weren't any dust explosions."

"Then they weren't vampires," Xander said decisively.

"They had the pointy teeth," Dean said. "They drank blood. What else could they have been?"

"Plenty of things," Xander said. "Some kind of demon; I don't know. What I _do_ know is they don't sound like any vampires I've ever seen." He picked up his fork again and poked at his pie with it, then looked up. "I've gotta go have a smoke. I'll be back in a couple of minutes, okay?"

After Xander had ducked out the door onto the sidewalk, Sam grabbed the extra fork and stole a bite of Dean's pie.

"Hey!" Dean said, shoving him.

"It's just one bite," Sam said through a mouthful of crust and cherries. It was a little too sweet, he thought. "So, this is interesting."

"You think he took off?" Dean asked.

That hadn't even occurred to Sam. "Why? Do you?"

Dean seemed to consider the question for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Nah. He sure as hell isn't smoking, though."

"Why would you say that?"

Holding his hand up between them, Dean waggled the backs of his fingers at Sam. "No nicotine stains. Plus his teeth are too white."

"Dude," Sam said, staring at Dean in disbelief. "You spend _way_ too much time watching CSI."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"So if he's not smoking, and he's not taking off, what _is_ he doing?" Sam asked.

"I'd put money on 'making a phone call,'" Dean said. He finished up his pie and glanced toward the counter where Rhonda was starting a new pot of coffee.

"You do _not_ need more pie," Sam said, but Rhonda had seen Dean watching and came sashaying over. "Okay, let me out."

He left Dean to his flirting and went outside; he didn't see Xander right away, but when he stopped and listened he could hear him talking, so he followed the voice and went around the corner of the building. He almost crashed into Xander, who was standing in the shadows -- not the safest place, really.

"Sorry," Sam said immediately, holding up both hands when Xander whirled and stepped back. "It's just me."

"Way to sneak up on a guy," Xander said, exhaling shakily. "Hang on a sec, okay? Sorry, Giles, what were you saying?"

Sam backed off and waited while Xander finished his conversation with Giles, whoever he was.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks. I'll call tomorrow -- um, or later today for you -- I can never keep track. Yeah. Bye." Xander flipped his cell phone shut and turned to Sam again. "So how long did it take you to figure out I wasn't smoking?"

"That was Dean," Sam admitted. "Was that one of your friends?"

Xander nodded. "The whole vampire inconsistency thing bugs me. I wanted to see if he could shed some light on the situation." He grinned suddenly. "Pardon the pun."

"Yeah, good one." Sam grinned too, unable to help himself. "Did he?"

"Well, he's British," Xander said, like that explained everything. "There's always a lot of hemming and hawing and muttered references to three hundred year old books."

"Sounds fun," Sam said.

"If there's an answer, he'll find it," Xander said. "He said they could be some other kind of demon -- sort of related to vampires -- or maybe some new kind of vampire. When was the last time you saw one?"

Sam debated whether it was a good idea to go into details, in part because he hated to think of Lenore going through what she'd gone through with Gordon again. But Xander seemed like a decent guy. "Almost a year ago. There weren't that many of them. I don't know where they are now."

"They got away?" Xander asked.

"Sort of." Sam shifted his weight to his other foot. "Well, we let them go."

Xander blinked at him. "Why?"

"They weren't killing anyone," Sam said. "They were drinking from cows."

"If you try to tell me they had souls, I'm so out of here," Xander warned.

"Souls?" Sam shook his head. "I don't know. What I do know is, they were trying to do the right thing. They didn't want to hurt anyone. They weren't evil."

"Yeah, well, maybe we have a different definition of evil," Xander said. "Because I know vampires, and no matter how much they try to convince you that they're the exception to the rule... well, let's just say there are no exceptions." He stepped sideways as the coffee shop's door opened and Dean came out. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean joined them. "Ellen called."

"Yeah?" Sam said.

"There's something going on about fifty miles north of here." Dean put his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Vampires?" Xander asked.

"No," Dean said. "Haunted playground."

"Now that's just wrong," Sam said. He turned to Xander. "You want to come?"

Xander nodded, but said, "I don't really have a lot of experience with haunted playgrounds."

Dean shrugged. "Who does?"

"But it'd give us some more time to figure out this vampire thing..." Xander turned around, looking confused. "I still don't know where my car is."

"Dude, where's your car?" Dean asked, with what he probably thought was an Ashton Kutcher expression. He pointed. "We're over there in the parking lot near the grocery store. Come on over when you find it and we can caravan."

"Or we could help him find his car," Sam countered.

"Yeah, okay," Dean said. "What is it?"

"'69 Chevy Impala convertible," Xander said absently, apparently concentrating harder on where his car might be than the conversation. "Black."

" _Dude_ ," Dean said, grinning widely. "Are you serious?"

"I know, I know, it's _old_ ," Xander said. He frowned, then pointed toward the grocery store. "Maybe it _is_ over that way. It's just, the first car I ever had was a convertible, and, well, I think a guy's first car really sticks with him, you know?"

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. "Yeah, I know," he said, and started following Xander, wiping his hand off on his pants.

Sam glanced down, brushed at dust still clinging to his shirt front, and coughed. "Hey," he called after Xander. "This stuff's not gonna give me some freaky vampire disease, is it?"

* * * * *

After half an hour of Dean geeking out over Xander's car, they finally got on the road. Dean was in a great mood, turning up the radio and drumming on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure Xander was still behind them.

"We're not going to lose him," Sam said after about the fifteenth glance. "There's no one else on the road."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "It's after midnight. We ought to make good time." He turned his head and grinned at Sam. "Better than good," he added, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. "Let's see what she can do."

Sam sighed and double checked that his seat belt was fastened.

* * * * *

"You do realize you get extra bad gas mileage when you drive like that, don't you?" Sam asked as they pulled into the parking lot of the school beside the playground.

"Sammy, Sammy," Dean said. "Lighten up!" He got out of the car and patted the roof affectionately. "It's only fair to these girls to let them stretch their legs every once in a while."

Xander shut off the convertible and grinned. "What he said. I take it that's the playground?"

There was a streetlight at the far edge of the parking lot -- just enough of the light from it filtered toward the playground, making it possible to read the carved wooden sign: Penguin Park.

"Penguin?" Dean said. "Aren't we about a thousand miles from the nearest place penguins live?"

"Kids like penguins," Xander said, shutting his car door and patting his pockets. "You know, the whole black and white thing. Like tuxedos."

"Since when do kids like tuxedos?" Sam asked.

"Well, actually, I met these kids just outside of Chicago..." Xander trailed off and shook his head. "Never mind, long story." He pulled out the same wooden stake he'd used before and held it up. "Somehow, I'm thinking this isn't going to be all that useful against ghosts."

"Might not even be ghosts," Dean said, moving to the trunk and opening it up. "Could be all sorts of things. But yeah, you need something better than a pointy stick. Here, take this." He handed a battered container to Xander.

"What is it?" Xander asked.

Dean blinked at him. "Salt. Haven't you ever used salt before?"

"On fries," Xander said, opening the top and sniffing. "It's just regular salt?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We use rock salt in the guns."

"Guns?" Xander asked. He stepped over so he could see into the trunk and his eyes went wide. "Holy moly. You guys aren't ex-military, are you?"

"No," Dean said, in the tone that meant he wasn't going to bring up Dad. "Sam."

Sam took the gun Dean was holding out and turned to scope out the playground. There were the usual wooden climbing structures, with yellow plastic slides snaking out from several spots. Off to the right were the swings -- four regular ones and then four of the bucket kind that were for smaller kids. Sam had a vivid flash of memory of the smell of a young Dean's t-shirt, soft fabric pressed to his face as Dean hauled him awkwardly out of one of those bucket swings.

"Sam," Dean said impatiently.

Sam blinked and nodded. "Yeah, sorry. What'd Ellen have to say about the place?"

"Bunch of kids snuck over here around twilight the other night and went running home screaming they'd seen a ghost," Dean said. He looked at Xander. "You want a gun?"

"You know, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say no," Xander said. "Don't get me wrong, I know how to handle one -- and _wow_ is that another long story -- but it's been a while."

"Okay. If things start to get hairy, you put yourself in a circle of that salt, you hear me?" Dean seemed to think Xander was more of a novice than his vampire-staking abilities had shown, but Sam wasn't going to say anything to dissuade him because it was impossible to know how Xander would react in this kind of situation.

"Did it try to hurt the kids?" Sam asked as they started walking slowly toward the playground.

Dean shook his head. "Ellen didn't know. Best we assume yes, though."

"Always better to assume that evil things are evil," Xander agreed.

They walked the perimeter of the area, which was walled off with railroad ties; there was bark mulch scattered under the equipment.

"You see anything?" Dean asked, his voice low.

"No," Sam said. "Not yet."

Without saying anything out loud, they all stepped into the playground, spreading out slightly.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Xander asked.

The air had been still, but suddenly a breeze picked up, lifted Sam's hair from the back of his neck and made his skin crawl. Just above one of the slide platforms, twelve feet ahead of them, there was a set of plastic rotating cylinders with letters on them. Slowly, the cylinders turned as if being pushed by an invisible hand, the sound rough like sandpaper on wood.

"Maybe something like that?" Xander suggested nervously.

"Yeah, something like that," Dean said. "Look alive, people."

"Better than the alternative," Xander said. He and Sam exchanged a quick grin.

Everything was quiet for half a minute, then the wind whipped up around them with enough strength that it tugged at Sam's clothes.

"Come on!" Dean shouted, lifting his face like he was talking to the sky. "What, you'll scare little kids but you don't have the balls to come out and deal with us?"

There was a swirl of air, leaves forming a mini tornado and then falling to the ground as a white cloud coallesced into a vaguely human shape. It flickered and sharpened, becoming focused; long stringy hair and a narrow-shouldered body that was clearly feminine.

"Okay, so forget what I said about balls," Dean said, shrugging one shoulder. "The rest of it still stands."

The spirit straightened and opened her mouth wide -- then let loose with a scream so loud that it knocked all of them off their feet. Sam rolled onto his side, fighting to get his breath back and looking automatically toward Dean, who was already scrambling to his feet. The echo of the scream ringing in his head, Sam got up, too, just in time for the ghost to shriek again. This time he let go of the gun and clutched at his temples, waiting for the pain to fade, but it kept coming in waves, crashing through him like something big and unyielding trying to crush his brain against the inside of his skull.

He forced his chin up until he could see Dean, who was lying on the ground, too. "Dean."

"Get out of here," Dean managed. "Get... him..."

It took every bit of energy Sam had to struggle the few yards to where Xander was, get a hand around his upper arm, and tug him toward the edge of the playground. As soon as they crossed over the railroad ties, the noise stopped, cut off so suddenly that Sam blinked for a few seconds in shock before letting go of Xander and moving to help Dean.

"Jesus," Dean said, his eyes narrow with pain, upper arm tense under Sam's hand. "That's one hell of a strong ghost."

"Oh, good," Xander said faintly. "I was starting to think maybe they were all like that."

"They aren't all opera singers," Sam told him. He watched Dean slowly ratchet his spine straighter. "So what now?"

"We got to find out who she is," Dean said.

"And why she tried to explode our brains out our ears but not those kids." Xander adjusted his eye patch in an automatic way, like he wasn't even thinking about it.

Sam said, "Maybe she likes kids."

* * * * *

A phone call to Ellen and they were crouched in the bushes behind the town's small library. "Okay, come on," Dean said, getting the window latch unfastened and shoving the window up.

Inside, they kept their flashlights low -- the building was set far back from the road, but there was no point in taking chances. It didn't take long to find the area where they stashed the local newspaper, which only came out once a week.

"Start with stuff a couple months back," Sam said. "If there haven't been any reports of the ghost until recently, she probably died within the past year."

"What happens if we find her?" Xander asked. "I assume there's no point in trying to reason with her."

"She's obviously an active haunting," Dean said. He glanced at Xander and added, "Not residual."

"I know what it means," Xander said. "You think I don't watch _Ghost Hunters_?"

"If those guys ever saw a real ghost, they'd shit themselves." Dean finished flipping through one paper, then set it aside.

Sam was taking more time, reading through two obituaries carefully even though both women who'd died that week had been older than seventy and passed peacefully at home. A hell of a lot better than getting your spine severed, and less likely to result in spirits with a taste for revenge. Not that he liked to think about that -- he tried his best not to.

"Why would she haunt a playground?" Xander asked. "Wouldn't it make more sense for her to haunt, I don't know, the place where she died, or something?"

"Maybe she fell off the jungle gym," Dean said, smirking.

"Guess I was lucky," Xander said. "I fell off the jungle gym when I was eight, and all I did was scrape my knees."

Sam frowned over what he was reading and tapped the table with his fingers to get Dean's attention. "Here. Check this out." He slid the paper toward Dean, who took it and bent his head to read.

"'Margaret McGovern, age forty-three..." Dean glanced up at Sam. "Says she died at home of unknown causes. Why would you think --"

"Keep reading," Sam said. "She worked at the school that's right next to that playground, and she only died a couple of months ago."

"Doesn't mean it's her," Dean said, already starting to come around to the idea. He looked at the paper again. "Says she's buried in the town cemetery on Vale Street."

"Then we know where to go next," Sam said.

* * * * *

  
  
"I'd say 'So that's it?', but I think my blisters would kick my ass for implying that digging up a grave was a little light exercise," Xander said, wiping sweaty hair off his forehead with a hand that was smeared with dirt.  
  
The smell of lighter fluid and burned bones mixed with smoke; the cemetery reeked of it, and Sam knew from previous experience that his clothes would, too, until they'd gone through the wash a couple of times. "Well, hopefully that'll be the end of it."  
  
"What do you mean, 'hopefully'?" Xander asked. "I thought this was the solution."  
  
"It usually is," Dean clarified.  
  
"But not always," Xander said, sighing and flexing his hand. "Why am I not surprised?"  
  
They put the shovels into the trunk and drove back to the playground. It was early morning, still a couple of hours until sunrise. Under his jacket, Sam's shirt was clinging to his shoulders and upper arms, and he was in pretty desperate need of a shower; he told himself it wouldn't be much longer. Hopefully.  
  
Dean didn't wait, just stepped right over the railroad tie onto the playground like he wasn't worried. Xander paused, waiting to see what happened, but Sam kept on going until Dean turned around, arms held out at his sides, grinning.  
  
"There, see?" Dean said. "No more --"  
  
It happened so fast that Sam didn't have time to blink, let alone yell out a warning. One second Dean was standing there; the next he was being jerked violently backward by an invisible hand. He rolled on his back as he was dragged through the mulch, then slammed up against the base of the wooden climbing structure. Sam heard the impact and shouted Dean's name -- just as the structure collapsed.  
  
Sam ran, his heart pounding as he struggled to find Dean under the pile of broken wood. Xander was there, working silently beside him.  
  
"Dean," Sam shouted. "Dean!" He pulled at another board and caught a glimpse of Dean's hand underneath, but Dean still didn't respond. Okay, Sam thought, it was okay, Dean was probably dazed or even unconscious, but not... Sam's brain wouldn't even think the word. He reached in through and touched Dean's wrist \-- it was reassuringly warm, the pulse fluttering under Sam's fingertips.  
  
They cleared away more wood until all that was left was a large beam across Dean's back; it wouldn't budge.  
  
"Here," Xander said, moving to the other side and grabbing onto it. "We can \-- just -- " They hefted with all their strength, but the beam didn't move even slightly. A sound like laughter, thin and ugly, swirled around them.  
  
"It's the ghost," Sam said. "It's gotta be. We must have missed something." He dropped down onto the ground beside Dean and held his fingers in front of Dean's lips, feeling his breath.  
  
"Like what?" Xander asked. "What could we have missed?"  
  
"I don't know." Sam tried to think. "Something at the grave, maybe. Something in the coffin? I don't know."  
  
"I'll go back," Xander said. "Here, give me your phone."  
  
Sam handed it over and Xander pushed a bunch of buttons. The phone made soft and familiar beeping sounds, then Xander handed it back.  
  
"I'll call when I get there." Xander hesitated, then patted Sam's shoulder before trotting off. Sam heard his car start up half a minute later; once it had gone, the darkness seemed more complete somehow, even though the light from above the parking lot was still on.  
  
Dean stirred under Sam's hand, groaned. "Sam?"  
  
"Yeah," Sam said, his relief so profound he couldn't stop himself from touching Dean's face. "Don't try to move."  
  
"Can't," Dean said. It wasn't hard to tell that it was as much a question as a complaint.  
  
"I know. Half the playground equipment fell on you. We got most of it off, but this one beam won't budge. It's Margaret -- has to be. We must have missed something back at the cemetery. Xander went back to check. Can you breathe okay?" It sounded like he was having a hard time, which was doing a pretty good job of freaking Sam out.  
  
Dean blinked slowly, his eyes pausing at closed, lashes dark against his skin. "Yeah. I'm okay. What'd we miss?"  
  
"I don't know," Sam said helplessly. He shifted closer, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder as much for himself as for Dean. He gripped his cell phone tightly in his other hand.  
  
There was another ghostly laugh from above them. Dean gasped and shut his eyes again; for a second or two, Sam caught a glimpse of the ghost on top of Dean, pressing down on the beam, expression maniacal. He dropped the phone, fumbling in his back pocket for the bag of salt he'd tucked there earlier. It tore as he got it out, salt spilling through his fingers and onto the backs of his calves onto the ground, but he managed to toss the rest of it toward her even though he didn't think it would help at all.  
  
The ghost flickered out of sight and Dean coughed, inhaling desperately and scrabbling at Sam's thigh, pressing his forehead against Sam's leg.  
  
"Dean," Sam said, leaning down. "Stay with me."  
  
"I'm not... going anywhere," Dean wheezed, his breath hot through the denim of Sam's jeans. "Hasn't been a year yet."  
  
It made Sam's chest hurt to think about that. "Shut up," he said, glancing toward the car.  
  
"Go on," Dean said. Sam looked at him. "I know what you're thinking. Go get the gun. We might need it."  
  
"I'm not leaving you alone here," Sam said, just as his phone rang. He turned, picked it up, and flipped it open. "Sam."  
  
"It's me," Xander said. "I'm here."  
  
"Look in the coffin," Sam told him. "There must be something we missed: jewelry, teeth..."  
  
" _Teeth_? Great." He could hear Xander fumbling around, then, "A bracelet \-- there's a bracelet."  
  
"Good," Sam said, trying to keep his voice calm even though he felt anything but. "Soak it with lighter fluid and set it on fire. Just torch the heck out of it."  
  
"Lighter fluid?" Xander asked frantically. "What lighter fluid?"  
  
Shit. It was in the trunk of Dean's car, here in the parking lot. "Okay, bring it back here as fast as you can."  
  
"Got it," Xander said tersely, and hung up.  
  
The ghost flickered into sight again, crouched on top of the beam, teeth gleaming ferally.  
  
"You must have liked that bracelet an awful lot if it's keeping you here," Sam told her. She snarled and spread her hands across the wood, pushing down. Dean groaned and Sam, desperate to do something, grabbed onto the end of the beam and pulled upward even though it didn't seem to do any good. He put all his strength into it, feeling the muscles in his arms and back straining to the point of pain.  
  
"Gun," Dean gasped. "Sam --"  
  
He released the beam as carefully as he could and ran for the car. He was tall, and fast, and he knew it, but it felt like it took forever to get there, a dozen long strides, grabbing the rock salt gun from the trunk and running half a dozen steps back before lifting it up and taking aim. He pulled the trigger -- the recoil was strong, the sound of the gunshot like a loud crack. The ghost shrieked and fragmented, disappearing again.  
  
Sam ran the rest of the way back and knelt down beside Dean, who was struggling to draw in air.  
  
"M'okay," Dean muttered. "Watch... for that bitch."  
  
"I got her," Sam said, setting the gun down next to him. He looked at the beam again. "We've got to get this thing off of you." Standing, he tried to lift it once more without any luck, then went around to the other side and tried from there. The ghost coalesced in front of him without warning, looking furious, and screamed in his face. He fell backward, hands going automatically to cover his ears even though it wouldn't do any good.  
  
The sound seemed to go on and on, echoing inside his head. When it stopped abruptly, Sam blinked, turned his head, and saw Xander standing just outside the boundary of the playground holding the bottle of lighter fluid in one hand and the bracelet in the other.  
  
"Looking for this?" Xander asked.  
  
Quickly, he dropped the bracelet to the ground, soaking it with lighter fluid, and set it on fire. The mulch around it burned, too, orange flames licking along the ground.  
  
Sam struggled to his knees as the ghost screamed again, but this time it was different, the sound fading away as her outline dimmed. "Help me," he croaked to Xander, and between the two of them they lifted the heavy beam off of Dean and let it fall to the ground with a muffled thump. "Dean? You okay?"  
  
Rolling onto his side, Dean nodded but didn't lift his head, which worried Sam. "Yeah. Fine. Just gimme a second."  
  
"Good job with the bracelet," Sam said to Xander, who was looking shell-shocked.  
  
"Thanks," Xander said. "It would have been better if I'd had the lighter fluid with me."  
  
Sam shook his head. "I should have told you to take it."  
  
"You should both shut up," Dean said, pushing himself to a sitting position and raising his hand toward Sam, who took it and helped Dean to his feet.  
  
He steadied Dean, watching him closely. "You sure you're not hurt?"  
  
There was a scrape on the side of Dean's face and he straightened carefully, testing, then grinned. "I'm good. Just a little banged up. I'll live."  
  
"You'd better," Sam told him.  
  
Dean looked toward the east. "Sun'll be up soon. And not to sound ungrateful, Sam, but you could really use a shower."  
  
Sam huffed. "I'm not the only one."  
  
"I think I saw a sign for a motel an exit south," Xander offered. "I could use some sleep. Maybe in the morning -- um, okay, I guess technically that should be 'Maybe in the afternoon' -- we could hook up for breakfast? _Lunch_. You know."  
  
"Sure," Sam said, smiling. "That'd be cool. We can talk some more about the whole vampire thing, see if we can figure out what's going on."  
  
Dean got into the passenger seat of the Impala without complaint, but he seemed to be moving okay now that he was up off the ground, so Sam didn't give him a hard time about it. As he pulled the car out of the lot behind Xander's, Dean reached out and turned the radio up. "Good night's work, Sammy," he said, drumming a thumb on his knee.  
  
"It was," Sam agreed. "Xander's a nice guy."  
  
"Good taste in cars," Dean said, then he turned the volume up even more and further conversation became pretty much impossible.  
  
That was okay, though, Sam thought, glancing over at his brother, who was playing air guitar with his eyes closed, a smile on his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> For Crowgirl13, who donated to the Fire_fic fund and asked for a Jossverse/SPN crossover.  
> Enormous thanks to Yasminke for her incredible help.


End file.
